Hot Coffee
by WootheRoo
Summary: Alfred bumps into a familiar face while walking to pick up his brother, but knows he's seen him somewhere before. He learns his name when finding out he works at Starbucks: Arthur Kirkland. Alfred is determined to befriend him, but how?


Chapter 1

The morning was crisp and refreshing as it decended over the city streets and industrial complexes. The sky was a spun, baby-blue stirred with a bright, sun kissed yellow, with thinned wisps of clouds tattered and shot from the corners of the atmosphere, almost like someone strung apart a cotton ball and threw it up into the picturesque, overhanging sky. The streets were dappled with early morning individuals with thick coats and scarves, their breath forming a foggy aura around their mouth as they passed eachother. When passing another human, they only either gave them the dip of the head, or just met their frosty gazes in a silent greeting. Most people weren't too friendly in the morning, anyways.

There was the bitterness of winter hanging in the air as the people commuted through the streets. The winter seemed to rob them of smiles and warm greetings, leaving them cold and bare to feeling. They seemed too cold to even think, with arched backs and tightened shoulders, that tried to hang into every sip of warmth they could mutter from the hats, coats, and scarves. They acted mechanically; walking, nodding, cursing the winter under their breath. Even the great statue of Liberty that hung in the pale skyline seemed to shiver and grow denser as the day pressed into 10:00 AM.

A piece of trash skidded across the asphalt as a passing car blew it off from it's stationary position on the sidewalk. It flipped and turned limply with the wind currents until coming to a stop beside a wooden bench, where a lanky, blonde man retrieved it with gloved hands. He examined it- an empty Lays chip bag- before quickly placing it in a nearby trashcan. He was different than the others who passed. His eyes were twinkling with life and pride, and he walked with a chipper in his step despite the chilly and frosty wind that swirled around him.

The man approached to what seemed like his house, looking much like the others on the street. He walked up the few amount of brick stairs before being face-to-face with the wonderfully crafted wooden door. He brought his keys out of his pocket and fiddled with them, the jingle mixing with the sounds of car horns and dull chatter, before finding the correct one and walking inside, the warmth holding his face in a tight embrace.

He shed his brown, leather coat and hung it on a nearby coat rack. He unwrapped his yellow, flannel scarf next from around his neck and hung it along with the coat. Shuffling his shoes off his feet, he pushed his glasses farther up his nose and walked down a small hall into a bigger room.

His azure eyes darted to an open pizza box on the coffee table, a few empty video game boxes, and various sprawled sheets and pillows laying across the couch and floor. He uttered a smirk as memories crept into his mind from the previous night. Memories of staying up until the late hours, playing frightening video games and sitting huddled in sheets. It was how he spent almost every night, after all.

A vibration was felt from his pocket. Instinctively, he reached in his pants pocket and pulled out his phone, furiously shaking in his palm. He slid open the call and put the phone to his ear. "Yo." he said, collapsing onto the couch.

"Alfred?" the voice on the other end said, quietly, no more than a whisper. His voice was soft and smooth, even through a phone line.

"Matt, bro!" Alfred said in return with a childish grin sprawled across his face. He reclined further back on the couch in a comfortable position for talking, and adjusted the phone against his ear. "Need something?"

"Yeah, um," Matt began, stumbling over his words as they escaped his mouth. "I'm in New York for a while and I thought, maybe, I could-"

Alfred interrupted him mid-sentence. "Stay at my place? That'd be great!" the American exclaimed. "We could stay up to 4 AM ordering anchovy pizza and playing scary Japanese video games while prank calling Francis!"

Matt gave a halfhearted, quiet chuckle from the other end of the phone. "Um, sure," he said, his small and nimble voice trying to compete with Alfred's loud and obnoxious one. "but is it alright to stay at your house?"

"It's completely okay, dude!" Alfred said in a voice close to verbally shouting. "You're my brother, after all."

"O-okay, pick me up at Grand Central Station in about an hour, alright?"

"Sure thing, bro!" Alfred replied. "See you on the flipside!"

He didn't give his brother a chance before he ended the call and pushed the phone back into his pocket. He sat in silence, eyeing the empty pizza box and the game controllers littering his living room floor. "Guess I should clean up a bit before Matthew gets here." Alfred though aloud, beginning to pick up the box and an empty can of Monster to carry to the trash.

After about half an hour of tidying up, Alfred considered that it had been enough. The crumbs, cans, and trash was all thrown away, and the game packages were put neatly on a shelf, including the wires from the controllers that were also tucked away from sight. Alfred trotted out from the living room and went to the foyer in front of his front door, sliding on his jacket and slipping on his shoes.

Opening the front door, a gust of wintry wind bit at his cheeks and nose. Alfred frowned against it, shutting his eyes, as he closed and locked the front door behind him. Grand Central Station was a short distance from his townhouse, and he'd enjoy walking back with Matt anyways, so he made the decision to walk to the train station.

Alfred enjoyed walking. He liked seeing the different faces of people that walk past him, and he liked seeing how they reacted towards eachother. He'd laugh at the humorous children, scowl at the easily angered, and sometimes would talk to the people he could tell were friendly. He always had liked the attitudes of people, and enjoyed striking a good conversation with strangers. It was just who Alfred was.

The American walked down 6th Avenue, trying to ignore the biting cold and slush on the street corners. Not many people were walking today. The few who were, were dedicated dog walkers or morning joggers. Alfred recognized most of the dog walkers and joggers, since they passed by his house almost everyday.

Alfred was too lost in his thoughts to realize he was about to bump into someone on the sidewalk. They brushed shoulders, each striking their gaze up to look at eachother. "Sorry," Alfred apologized to a blonde man who's neck was covered by a blue plaid scarf. The man Alfred had bumped into locked his green gaze with Alfred, in almost a confused and puzzled manner.

"Are you okay, dude?" Alfred asked, beginning to grow concerned as to why the stranger was staring at him. "Do I know you?"

The green eyed man dropped his gaze down to his feet, shaking his head in a reply. "No, not at all," he said in a heavy English accent. This accent had always intrigued Albert, and he always wanted to listen to an Englishman talk for hours on end. The accent always made him feel warm inside. "I'm sorry."

"It's cool, dude." Alfred said with a thumbs up. The Englishman only gave a halfhearted smile and darted his emerald eyes from side to side.

"I-I have to go," the blonde said, quickly turning before Alfred could say another word, or ask a vital question like what his name was. Alfred, puzzled, gave a short wave as the stranger walked quickly down the sidewalk, hands tucked in his large coat.

Alfred bit his lip as the Englishman disappeared through the haze. He thought for a moment before turning to walk back on his own path to get to his destination: Grand Central Station. He wouldn't want to forget about Matt.

Alfred tried to walk, but it was hard for him. His thoughts were too shrouded for him to place one foot in front of the other in a continuous manner. His speed was erratic, changing paces from quick to slow, which was unusual for Alfred. His walking speed was a constant, quick beat. He couldn't get the peculiar British man out of his mind.

"That guy looked really familiar." Alfred thought aloud, burying his hands in his pockets. He remembered the man's eyes; the bright and beautiful green like a summer meadow. He kept his thoughts focused on the color of his eyes, trying to picture someone he had met in the past with such a vibrant eye color. He failed himself, not being able to put a name to the stranger, but was fixed on the fact that they had met somewhere in the past.

"Why didn't I ask for his name?" Alfred said in frustration to himself, kicking a small rock into the street. "I'm so stupid!"

The American kicked himself over the strange encounter. It was just like any other stranger he sparked conversation with, right? _No. _He was different. There was something in those green eyes of his that intrigued Alfred, but he didn't know what it was. Why was he so eager to leave, anyways? Alfred sighed, his breath turning to frosted wisps in the air. He shook the man out of his mind, and pressed on down the street.

Finally able to almost forget about the man he had bumped into, Alfred arrived at Grand Central Station. It hadn't taken too much time, but the winter weather had slowed him down a lot. He entered the remarkable building, feeling entranced by it's golden interior and warmth. He walked further into the building and found a seat, deciding to wait out there until Matt's train arrived.

Alfred checked his watch. _10:47. _He didn't really keep track of the hour span, and frankly, had no idea when Matt would show up. _He'll call. Surely, he will. _Alfred let out a small sigh, and began to observe the people going by. Most of them carried briefcases and wore fancied suits, and had their phone stuck to their ear. Alfred noted them of being of high importance, unlike him. He would never be important to anyone besides maybe Matt.

Alfred waited for a little over 15 minutes before someone tapped his shoulder. He looked around and saw a familiar face in a red hoodie, causing him to stand up and give the man a hug. "Matt!" Alfred exclaimed when he looked back at him. The resemblance was striking. They both had the same blonde locks and wore glasses, except Alfred was a little taller. Their eyes were just about the same shade of blue, but not quite, and Matt had a loose curl of hair that flopped out of place.

"How was your train?" Alfred asked, grabbing one of his brother's suitcases and beginning to walk towards the door.

Matt shrugged, fixing his bag around his shoulder and pulling a smaller suitcase behind him. "Fine, I guess." he said, quietly, before following his brother out the door and into the winter. "Wow, it's actually not that cold here."

"Not that cold?" Alfred said, raising his eyebrows and glancing back at Matthew. "I'm freezing my ass off, and you say it's not that cold?"

"Try living in Canada." Matthew says with a chuckle. "This isn't anything compared to our winters."

Alfred grunted and braced himself for the walk home, pulling the suitcase behind him, and aimlessly talking to his brother about his home and what had been going on recently. They chatted and laughed, until Alfred arrived at his home, unlocking the door and walking into the warmth inside.

"So," Alfred stated, wheeling the suitcase down the hall and into a bedroom. "Is it good to be back home?"

"Alfred," Matthew said, following him and setting down his bag on the neatly made bed. "My home is in Canada, not America. It doesn't matter if I was born here or not."

Alfred shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the room and back to the living room, collapsing on the couch. "Suit yourself then, dude." he said, grabbing the remote on the coffee table, and switching on the TV. Matthew trekked in a few minutes later and sat down, more calmly, next to Alfred and began to watch the TV.

A poorly filmed, drama movie was being played. The actress was passionately kissing a man in the rain, while her face was splattered with ruined makeup and scratches. Alfred scowled at the movie, and flipped channels aimlessly.

"I didn't know you liked cheesy romance movies, Alfred." Matthew said with a chuckle, looking over at his brother.

"I don't."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Keep telling yourself that. I mean, you live alone and you never go out on dates, so why not?"

Alfred looked over, meeting his brother's condescending gaze. "What makes you think I don't go on dates?" he said, proudly.

Matthew blinked. "Well, judging by the spilt energy drink stains on the coffee table, and crumbs littering the floor, you probably wasted your night playing video games with pizza and monster."

"Man, you're good." Alfred said, looking back at the TV which was now showing a news report of a killing in the Bronx. The two watched TV for awhile before Alfred got up and began to pace.

"You okay?" Matthew said, puzzled with Alfred's sudden actions.

"Yeah, it's just…" Alfred replied, stopping, and looking back over to his brother. "When I was walking to pick you up today, I ran into a man who looked familiar, but at the same time, a stranger. I haven't been able to stop thinking of him."

The Canadian raised his eyebrows and looked back at the TV. "Did he remember you?"

"No, he looked kind of uncomfortable and said he had to go before I could ask him his name." Alfred said, stroking his chin and looking down at his feet. "I want to bump into him again, so that I can."

"Oh don't be silly, Al." Matthew said, fixing his hair with his fingers. "He's probably just another stranger who looks familiar. There's no sense worrying about it."

Alfred looked back at Matthew, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right, dude. It's nothing." he agreed brightly, walking back and plopping onto the couch.

"He's just a stranger."

* * *

Morning came quickly. Matthew was up early, before Alfred, and had already made a full breakfast before his brother came into the kitchen. He learned that Matt went down to the store to purchase a few things, and treated him to a Canadian breakfast with pancakes, maple syrup, and Canadian bacon, which Alfred argued was just ham.

They ate in silence, well, silence that goes along with Alfred's loud chewing. By the end of breakfast, it was 9:34 AM, and Alfred wanted to take Matthew out to New York City, his state's pride and joy. Matt agreed and hurried to his room to get ready, with Alfred doing the same. He dressed with a dark blue shirt and dark jeans, and fetched a matching plaid scarf from his drawer. He found a matching beanie as well, and decided to add that to the outfit. Matching was always nice.

Alfred walked out of his room and met Matthew in the kitchen, who was finishing the dishes in the red hoodie he was wearing the previous day. "Oh no, bro." the American said, intervening between his brother and the dishes. "You're the guest, I'll wash the dishes."

"By the looks of it," Matthew said, taking a step back and raising an eyebrow. "You've never washed dishes."

"Because that's what dishwashers are for!" Alfred said, ending his sentence with an obnoxious laugh. Alfred loaded the dishwasher in a matter of minutes and began his walk to the front door. He slid on his shoes, grabbed his coat, and fixed his scarf. "Ready?" he said to his brother, opening the door and stepping out into the wintry New York atmosphere. Matthew, given no choice, followed in suit and stepped out alongside him.

"Cold as always," Alfred murmured as he stepped down onto the sidewalk and began to walk north. His breath formed a chalk-colored fog around his mouth before disappearing into the morning. Matthew walked with a smoother stride in his step. He wore a red hat, matching his hoodie, loosely on his head and his neck was hidden in a flannel, white scarf. His clothing look matched his brother's, striking up the similarities again.

Alfred led him down the familiar sidewalks until he came across a sudden path of stairs leading downwards. Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on," Alfred teased, beginning to walk down the stairs and into the dimly lit underground. "You've never ridden a subway before?"

Matthew reluctantly followed into the subway station, relying on Alfred for his directions. They came to a platform where a few other individuals were waiting at, briefcases and shoulder bags at hand, and most of them were dressed nicely; like the people in Grand Central Station. Alfred and Matthew fit into the group, with their heavy coats and scarves, but were nowhere near as nice looking as many of them were. In a matter of minutes, the subway slid easily into place, unloaded a few people, and opened it's doors for more passengers.

Alfred led his brother into the subway car, standing with their grips hooked on a hoop hanging from the top of the car. Matthew was unfamiliar to the whole ordeal, whereas Alfred looked like he had ridden a subway a hundred times over. He probably had, however, considering he lived in New York.

The subway eventually lurched into motion, after a warning from a monotone voice. Alfred barely swayed, whereas Matthew would've fallen flat on his face if it weren't for that hoop. The American snickered at his brother's struggles, catching weary eyes from the other passengers in the car. Alfred quieted himself, and got an icy glare from Matt in return.

After a few stops, the subway finally stopped to a platform that the brothers were waiting for. Alfred dragged his brother off and hurried up the stairs into the broad daylight that was absent in the dim hollows of the underground station. Matthew squinted, looking around at his surroundings. It all looked the same to him. Brick townhouses, gray hues, yellow taxis… the same old dull colors.

"Why are we rushing?" Matthew asked quietly, casting a sideways glance to Alfred.

"We can't miss the ferry!" his brother exclaimed in return, worry quivering in his blue orbs of eyes. Matthew looked puzzled, tilting his head a bit and raising an eyebrow.

"Ferry?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. "Isn't that a small flying girl with magical powers?"

"Not a _fairy, _you dumbass," Alfred said with the corners of his mouth perked upwards in a silly grin. "A _ferry. _It gets us over the water."

"Water?" Matthew asked, generally confused. "We have to go through water to get to New York City?"

"The good ol' Hudson River!" Alfred said with a childish snicker. "You don't know a lot about New York, do you?"

"Not one bit."

Alfred laughed a bit, almost running into a woman in a dress, which was unusual in such chilly temperatures. "Good to hear." he finally said, crossing the street after looking for any passing cars. There were, of course, but they stopped enough to let the two cross and make their way to the ferry station.

Matthew's brows furrowed in uncertainty. "Do you even know where we are right now?" he said, his voice muffled from underneath his scarf.

"Of course I do." Alfred said proudly, looking ahead and seeing a glimpse of the gray waters of the Hudson. "We're just passing through Washington Heights. I know my city, Matt."

The younger brother, by a year anyways, struggled to keep up with Alfred's fast pace. "If you say so," he mumbled, almost unheard. The duo approached the ticketing building, where Alfred paid for two ferry tickets. The lanky man working the ticketing booth handed Alfred two slips of paper, and fixed his eyes to the next in line.

"Good, it's still loading." Alfred said, voice heavy with relief. They hurried onto the large boat, swerving around the array of cars parked on deck. Matthew was amazed that a boat could hold cars, and that quantity, nonetheless. They made their way to the railing, overlooking the harsh-looking waters, and waited patiently for the ferry to begin it's journey over the river.

"Is the Hudson prettier in the Summer?" Matthew asked, looking over at his brother, whose gaze was lost in the morning sky tinged with gray.

"Y-yeah," Alfred replied after a moment or so, realizing that he had deprived Matt of an answer for awhile. "It is. It's still cold, though, but sometimes cold isn't that bad."

Eventually the ferry left it's port, slowly chopping through the water. Alfred watched the white tips of the waves hit the side of the boat, being pushed aside into the rest of the stormy-colored water. The color of the Hudson matched the season: cold, gloomy, and gray. Not a typical picturesque landscape.

Alfred and Matthew were one of the first to unload as the ferry pulled into port. It was a change from the other side of the river. There were more people, more cars, and more lights. "Wanna get some coffee?" Alfred suggested to his brother, who was busy taking in the scenery.

"Oh, yeah, sure." he replied after being nudged, and was led away by Alfred into the daze of large buildings and crowded blocks.

Alfred miraculously found a Starbucks within all the buildings and madness, which offered a homely feel and warmth when stepping into. Alfred freed his chin from underneath his scarf, and took off his beanie to reveal his light blonde locks and cowlick. He glanced up at the menu, although already fixed on knowing what to get, and then proceeded to order, where he was met by a familiar face.

Alfred raised his eyebrows upon seeing the blonde haired, green eyed Englishman that he had bumped into during the walk to pick up Matthew. He was sort of surprised to learn that he worked at a Starbucks in the city, and that of all places, would meet him there. The Englishman looked puzzled, although his eyes tinted with recognition, but he failed to show it in his pale and glossy face.

"May I help you?" he asked in that striking accent which struck Alfred back into reality.

"Y-yeah, um, one grande cappuccino, p-please," he said, stuttering over his lettering as the blonde man imputed it into the cash register. Alfred watched him, still kicking himself over meeting the man again.

"Anything else?"

Matthew walked in front of Alfred, pushing his brother to the side. "A small espresso, please, eh?" he said, politely, as the unknown man mechanically entered it in.

"11.23 is your total." he said, glancing up and meeting Alfred's gaze. The American reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, handing it to the barista. He contemplated saying something, but didn't want to annoy the Englishman. Was he already?

"Hey," Alfred began as the man looked up from counting change. "Didn't I run into you yesterday?"

Matthew cast a glance at Alfred, putting the pieces together that this is who he had talked about previously. The emerald-eyed man shrugged, collecting the dollar bills together to give back. "I don't know," he said, merging the money with a newly printed receipt. "I run into a lot of people.

"Can I ask your name?" Alfred asked, collecting the money from the barista instinctively. The man raised an eyebrow as he locked his gaze with Alfred's, before slightly smirking and looking away at the cash register.

"I'm Arthur, Arthur Kirkland," he said, looking back at Alfred with a smooth but iron stare. "You would know that if you bothered to read my nametag. That's why I wear it, you know."

Alfred widened his eyes and learned he had just made a fool of himself in front of his brother and a stranger. "O-oh, that's right!" he said, feeling his face getting hot. "I s-should've looked there!" He tried to blow it off by chuckling, but Arthur didn't even smile.

"Yeah, well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have customers," Arthur said, looking past Alfred and his brother. "And your coffee's ready… so goodbye…uh…"

"Alfred." the American said with a soft smile. "Alfred Jones."

"Yeah… right…" Arthur said, looking down. "Anyways, the real point is that I have customers to ring up, so I'm afraid our chatter is to be cut short." Alfred wasn't given a chance to reply as Arthur began to ring up the next customer, and Matthew pulled his brother along to collect their coffee. Alfred regretted just about everything he had said to Arthur, and wished to replay the whole scene. He had just looked like an idiot! How would Arthur even think of him? _Wait. _Why did he even care what Arthur thought?

"Smooth." Matthew said, sliding down in a booth by the corner of the room. "Real smooth."

"Oh shut up." Alfred said, rubbing his cheeks, and realizing how hot he had become. "I was just nervous, okay? That Arthur guy was kind of hard to talk to, if you didn't realize."

Matthew raised his eyes, smirking. "Well, you shouldn't be." the Canadian replied with a tinge of amusement across his tongue. "I was kinda embarrassed for you."

Alfred rolled his eyes and wrapped his fingers around his hot coffee, feeling the warmth spread from the cup into his hands, and comforting his whole body. Hot coffee was great on a cold winter day in New York, despite how long it took to wait for it to cool enough before it burned your tongue.

Alfred and Matthew waited for their coffee to cool in silence, looking aimlessly out of the window nearby out to the buildings, taxis, and people. Alfred stiffened when he took the first sip of his cappuccino, although expecting it to seethe his tongue, but managed to get it down. "I know him from somewhere," the American whispered, glancing over at his brother. Matthew looked up, flashing his light indigo eyes.

"How can you be sure?" he said, sipping his coffee without looking away. Alfred bit back his reply, over thinking it. _Do I really know him? _

Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "That accent.. And the way he looks… I remember it from somewhere. Sometime when I was a kid."

Matthew furrowed his brows, taking another sip of his coffee, and then gently setting it back down. "School?" he offered, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. "Was he ever in your class in school?"

Alfred thought for a moment. He tried recreating all of his memories in school, looking for a blonde haired, green eyed British boy in any of his classes. The memories got more vague as he went into his younger years, but he could match one peculiar student to the description when Alfred was in 3rd grade. "Maybe," he began, casting his vision downward as he tried to remember. "I remember a kid when I was in grade school who looked like him, but he was older than me."

"Oh really?" Matthew murmured in response, eyebrows raised and head cocked.

"Yeah, really." spoke his brother with a hint of amusement in his tone. He reminisced for a heartbeat or two, then spoke up again. "On the playground one day, some kids were picking on him for what he was wearing, I think. So, being the natural hero I was, I stepped in and told the kids off."

Matthew seemed amused to his brother's tale, taking a sip of coffee and chuckling a bit. "What happened?"

"Well, u-uh," Alfred said, scratching the back of his head. "The kids started picking on me for being so young and trying to defend him. So I got a wedgie and Arthur was spared." The American glanced back at the barista, who was free of customers currently. "I never saw him again after that, so I assumed he just went back to England or wherever he came from."

"Sounds reasonable." Matthew said, moving his fingers in a circle around the lid of his coffee cup. "Do you know for sure that he was Arthur?"

"How many other blonde haired, green eyed, British kids do you see around New York?" Alfred responded with, sarcasm alive in his voice. Matthew tilted his head to the side, but silently agreed with his brother. No matter how much of a coincidence it might be, it was plausible that Alfred had met Arthur in his lifetime before.

"Let's get walking," Alfred said, standing beside the booth with eyes fixed towards the door. "I wanna show you a lot of stuff today."

Matthew stood and followed Alfred out the door, whose exit was noted and watched by emerald eyes behind the counter.


End file.
